


Abstract

by thievinghippo



Series: Sonya Shepard [6]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: A study on Garrus and Shepard's relationship during ME2, from introduction to conclusion, featuring arguments for and against.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: Sonya Shepard [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/54793
Comments: 103
Kudos: 108





	1. Introduction - Shepard

**Shepard - Introduction**

Humidity seeps into Shepard’s skin. She wipes a gloved hand across her brow, causing her short curls to stick to her forehead. Damn, if she didn’t hate Feros. Then again, she is only human. Next to her, Garrus and Wrex seem to be in their element, both natives of planets with higher temperatures and humidity. What she wouldn’t give for a tall glass of water right now.

A sudden sound of growling animals is heard from their right. “Think we found our varren,” Shepard says, unholstering her pistol.

Garrus straightens slightly and Wrex simply looks bored. “Be more fun just to kill them with our bare hands,” he says, pounding his fists together.

“Not exactly humane, Wrex,” Shepard says dryly.

“One of these days, Shepard,” Wrex says, grudgingly taking out his shotgun, “you’ll remember that I’m not human.”

“Too time consuming, then,” Shepard says, giving him a curt nod, trying not to think of some of her past missteps with the krogan warlord. She might never forgive herself for comparing the First Contact War with the genophage. She survived the N7 program, she knew better than that. At the time, Shepard blamed her exhaustion, but it’s no excuse. Tired is her default setting these days.

“Let’s get this over with,” Shepard says, stepping into the dark hangar. “We have geth to fight.”

“I personally liked the idea of save the colony first then run their damn errands,” Wrex says.

“I believe in multi-tasking,” Shepard says, wrinkling her nose as the smell of animal waste threatens to overwhelm her. Her sensitive nose has always been a weakness, one she tries constantly to overcome.

“Six of them,” Garrus says, his voice hushed. Shepard isn’t positive but she thinks his subvocals portray annoyance. He probably doesn’t want to be killing varren instead of geth anymore than Wrex does. But she promised to help the colony, and damnit, she’s going to try to keep her promises. “Pretty sure they’ll go down with one shot, but I kill one, the rest will swarm us.”

“Let them,” Wrex says. Unlike Garrus, his voice echoes loudly in the hangar.

“Any sign of the Alpha?” Shepard asks.

Garrus lifts his sniper rifle to peer through the scope. “Not that I can see, but once we start killing his soldiers, the bastard will make an appearance.”

“Good point. Let’s take them out quickly, then,” Shepard says. Giving Wrex a pointed look, she adds, “With guns.”

“Bah, you’re no fun,” Wrex mutters, but he loads his shotgun.

Shepard takes a breath, thinking of the geth and the krogan they’ve already killed. What on this damn planet is so valuable? She brings up her omni-tool, ready to release attacks if needed. “Whenever you’re ready, Garrus.”

A single shot rings out and a varren falls over dead, shot through the eye. “Nice!” Shepard yells, impressed with the shot. Her admiration is short lived as the other varren start charging. Wrex runs out to meet them while Shepard stays midfield with Garrus in the back. The three of them have worked together as a team numerous times now and this positioning has never failed them.

They make quick work of the varren and the guest of honor arrives. “That is one big, ugly varren,” Shepard says as she unloads her pistol.

The fight ends quickly and Shepard puts her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath as she takes a brief respite. “Okay,” she says, hating the weariness she hears in her voice. “We’ve destroyed the geth signal, turned the water back on, grabbed the battery, and killed the damn varren. That’s everything, right?” She twists her torso, trying to stay loose after the fight. “I do not want to go back up those stairs again. Once was enough.”

“Pretty sure that’s everything,” Garrus says as he walks over to the varren. He takes a look. “Most of these are all clean kills, Shepard. Seems a waste to leave them here to rot.”

“You got a better idea?” Shepard asks, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“We’re going back to the colony now, right?” Garrus asks, kneeling down. He hefts a varren over his hip in what Shepard knows to be the turian version of a fireman’s carry. “Why don’t we each take one and the colonists can have steak tonight?”

Shepard blinks rapidly and looks at Garrus, standing tall, balancing the varren on his hip. She feels a rush of pride, knowing he wants to take that extra step for the colonists, even when geth hide in the shadows. Her gaze lingers a moment too long as she wonders why she never realized just how blue his eyes are.

_Oh._

Her cheeks flush and Shepard forces herself to look at the ground. “That’s a good idea, Garrus,” she says, her voice slightly halting as she walks to the closest varren. Kneeling down, Shepard grabs the varren, grateful for only a minimum of blood splatter. Once the varren rests safely over her shoulders, she turns.

Garrus’ back is towards her and she finds herself looking at his backside and how it curves gently up to his waist.

_Oh no._

This can’t be happening, not now, not when they are chasing Saren. She sneaks another glance at Garrus and his shoulders… Her breath hitches. “Grab a varren, Wrex,” Shepard says. The words are sharper than she intends.

The krogan looks at her, eyes narrow. Then he inhales deeply before letting out a chuckle. “Whatever you say, Shepard,” he says, picking up the Alpha.

Without another word, they leave the hangar. Walking a few steps ahead like aways, Shepard tries to get her thoughts under control. She very clearly just found Garrus attractive. Her body responds and she can almost feel her heart beat quickening. She wonders if Garrus notices with his visor. Somehow, she thinks he does.

Garrus. Garrus Vakarian. Someone who considers her to be a bit of a mentor. The type of person he would use as a reference. Someone who looks up to her and that she should absolutely not be having… these sort of thoughts about.

He wouldn’t always look to her as a mentor though, right? Maybe once Saren is defeated, she could invite him out for a drink and they could really take the time to get to know each other. But who is she kidding? Shepard has never seen him give anyone other than turian females a second glance. And she’s just a human.

So she takes the possibility and locks it away, secret like, where it will be hard to take root. And with a deep breath, Shepard starts down the stairs, ready to complete their mission.


	2. Introduction - Garrus

“Shepard, do you really need to talk to everyone?” Garrus asks under his breath.

“There is a krogan reciting love poetry in the middle of a market on Ilium,” Shepard says with a grin. “Are you telling me you’re not the least bit curious?”

Well, he is, but Garrus certainly isn’t going to admit that _now._ “There’s got to be something better you can do with our time, Shepard,” Garrus says, thinking of everything they hope to accomplish on Illium. They already played detective, helping the Justicar find the information she sought. And soon they’ll be trying to stop an assassin, before recruiting him to the team. Life with Shepard is never dull.

“Maybe I can score a discount somehow,” Shepard says, confidently walking up to the salesclerk, while Garrus can only shake his head and flick out his mandibles in a grin. He watches her talk, a warm feeling spreading throughout his gizzard. Three months ago, he thought Shepard dead, and now he’s watching her six again. He didn’t realize the effect her death had on him until she was back in his life. Without her and the _Normandy_ , Garrus felt adrift for those two years. Not even leading his own team grounded him like she does.

“I do love poetry,” Kasumi says next to him, shifting her weight onto one hip. “Even bad poetry if it means something.”

_For if our love is to survive, it must grow thorns to pierce the hand of any that would uproot it!_

“Hmm…” Kasumi taps her index finger on her chin. “Though I’m not quite sure what that means.”

The line made sense to Garrus. A true relationship between an asari and a krogan would be looked down on, maybe even laughed at. Yet no one blinked an eye when an asari wound up with a turian, or a batarian, or a volus. If those two really wanted to make it work, _they’d_ have to work. He thinks back to his own love life. Been a long time since he found someone he thought worth the effort.

Looking back over at Shepard, Garrus sees that she’s talking eagerly. Whatever she’s talking about, he doesn’t think it’s about poetry any more, so he decides to listen.

“If he said that, you either trust him, so you have nothing to worry about, or you don’t. And you’ve already decided.”

The words are simple ones, good advice for anyone. And somehow, they completely throw him off balance. If there’s anything Garrus is certain of in this life, it’s this: he trusts Shepard. He has from the moment she let him join his crew on the SR-1. Even after he woke up on a Cerberus ship - full of people who would raise themselves up by pushing his people down - he trusts Shepard.

Garrus lets out a sigh, expecting to hear weariness or annoyance in his subvocals. But as the asari walks away, leaving Shepard looking at him with a smile on her face, all he hears is the sound of _want_. He freezes, sure he’s heard wrong.

“Guess who just scored us a discount,” Shepard says casually as she starts to look through the kiosk.

“You and your discounts,” Garrus says, sounding slightly stunted, hearing those subvocals _again._ He starts to turn away from Shepard, not sure what to think. How can this be real? He’s never shown any sign of being attracted to another species before, not even asari, and everyone likes asari. But here he is, his eyes wandering down to Shepard’s waist, wondering what her hide - _her_ _skin_ \- might feel like underneath his palms.

Shepard shrugs, running a gloved hand over her shaved head. “You try living out of a skycar at sixteen. You’d want all the discounts you could find, too,” she says. There’s no bitterness in her voice, just a simply statement of fact.

Her childhood is not something she talks about much. Garrus knows the basics: orphaned at five, put in the foster care system at six, disappearing at fourteen, only to reappear as an enlisted Alliance soldier. But those things are easy to find out, part of her public service record. She’s never really mentioned the years off the grid, and Garrus has never pushed, always being content with anything she’s willing to share.

But now he realizes how much _more_ he wants to know about her. Why did she make the switch to engineering when the Alliance originally trained her as an Infiltrator? How can she move so gracefully in the field yet be _such_ a shitty dancer? What the hell happened on Akuze? The want he feels, deep in his bones, practically takes his breath away.

“You okay, Garrus?”

Of course Shepard notices, he thinks. Shepard always seems to notice the little things, makes her a good commander, something he’s always respected about her. He nods, not trusting to speak and possibly hear those subvocals again. Granted, the chance Shepard could understand the meaning is small. She recognizes some, like frustration or pride, but desire? Garrus is fairly sure she doesn’t know that one. And he really doesn’t want to explain it to her.

She tilts her head, like she doesn’t quite believe him, which she shouldn’t. But Garrus also knows that unless he gives Shepard a reason to doubt him, she’ll not press the matter. It’s one of the reasons people open up to her. There’s never any pressure to talk, yet people find themselves wanting to tell her their story. Some day, he thinks, he might even tell her the whole story about Omega.

Some day.

But for now, he will simply push these new feelings down and away, far from where he can reach. _That_ he can do. In the meantime, he looks at Shepard.

“Come on,” she says with a sly grin. “Let’s see if Baria Frontiers is willing to give me a discount.”


	3. Thesis Statement - Shepard

**Thesis Statement - Shepard**

_What the hell just happened?_

The moment the battery doors shut behind her, Shepard leans against a sleeper pod, trying to realign her world. She was this close - _this close -_ to saying something back there, to actually bringing up the idea of the two of them together. Stress relief. He brought up _stress relief._ Oh what she would give to relieve her stress with Garrus. But what does she do? Instead of seizing the insanely large opening he gave her, she simply said,

“Thanks for the talk, Garrus.”

Thanks for the talk.

As if it were any normal conversation, as if Garrus hadn’t brought up stress-relief, as if she didn’t want him. As if it didn’t increasingly look like he might want her as well. _Stress relief._ She’s read enough issues of Fornax to know what that means to a turian.

Taking a deep breath, Shepard runs her hand over shaved head. She hadn’t realized how much her crush back from their days of chasing Saren had grown. But there it was, practically hitting her in the face. But what if she’s wrong? She is only human, after all. What if he simply brought up stress relief because he literally is stressed? A turian on a Cerberus ship, full of humans who would rather him be anywhere but their fancy new ship. It can’t be easy. And they’ve never really talked about it, beyond him saying _You realize this plan has me walking into hell, too?_ She’s charging there, full-throttle, and instead of kicking and screaming, he’s walking right by her side.

_Shepard?_

Hearing her name makes her jump, makes her feel like a raw recruit, like she has something to hide. She doesn’t like to be startled. “Yes, EDI?”

_Your heart rate has been above your normal baseline since you left the main battery. Perhaps you should go to the medical facilities._

“Ha,” Shepard says with a weak laugh. If EDI knew her heart rate was elevated, no doubt - _no doubt -_ Garrus saw her heart beat had been elevated, too. That visor really does give him an unfair advantage. “Nothing’s wrong, EDI. Just horny and thinking too much.” She closes her eyes, hardly believing she just admitted that to the AI. “Please don’t share that with Miranda.”

_Your statement will remain confidential._

Relief, sweet, beautiful relief, courses through her. She really needs to not be so open when she’s talking to EDI. Anything she says to EDI is generally fair game to Miranda. And anything fair game to Miranda has potential to make its way back to The Illusive Man. Shepard needs to cover her mouth to keep herself from laughing at the thought of Miranda and The Illusive Man discussing her sex life. Or lack there of, really.

Now that she thinks of it, how long had it been since she’d gotten laid? A few weeks after Saren’s defeat, she remembers, thinking of the artist from Kenya she met on the Citadel. Over the years she’s learned to look outside the military for one-night stands. But Garrus isn’t Alliance…

And she’s not looking for a one-night stand.

It’s been years since she was last in a relationship, not since Calyn, and to say that ended poorly was an understatement. But that was on Shepard, not Calyn, thanks to the stress after the attack on Akuze. What if something were to happen between her and Garrus? What if the suicide mission goes just as sideways as Akuze? Can she go through that again? Shepard already knows the answer. If it does, she’ll survive. She doesn’t have any other choice.

The potential for _more_ is right there, like a current underneath her skin. _More._ She’ll want to delve into that, figure out exactly why it’s so appealing, but not when she’s standing right outside the battery. Shepard stuffs her hands into the pockets of her trousers and walks down the ramp, into the common area. The cafeteria tables are mercifully empty, but Gardner is leaning after the counter of the small kitchen, staring out into space.

Thankfully, her rounds are finished, giving her a bit of free time before her meeting with Miranda to discuss the upcoming mission to Alchera. Her squad aren’t the only ones with ghosts. Hopefully this will give her some sort of sense of peace before heading to the Thorne system to search and recover the dead Reaper IFF.

However, that meeting is absolutely the last thing Shepard _wants_ to do.

Walking as softly as she can, so not to disturb Gardner or catch Chakwas’s attention, Shepard heads to the elevator. Some time alone in her quarters is exactly what she needs. Somehow, she makes it to the elevator without anyone stopping her. And better still, the elevator didn’t stop at the CIC floor, going directly to her cabin. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think luck might actually be on her side for one. Of course, that’s when she’d spend any spare luck. On an elevator. Instead of when she might actually need it. Like on the suicide mission.

Her cabin is always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the ship and right now, she’s exceedingly grateful for that fact, even after unbuttoning the collar of her uniform. “It could work,” she whispers to herself, walking down the stairs. Back on the SR-1, it never would have. He put her too much on a pedestal back then, but dying seemed to change all that. She might be leading the mission, but as far as Shepard’s concerned, they’re _equals_ , in all things.

Shepard’s always been a fan of making lists, and this seems like a perfect opportunity. “I trust him,” she says out loud. Trusts him more than anyone else at this point. There is no one more in the galaxy she would rather have at her six than him. That has to mean something, right?

“He makes me laugh.” Definitely another point in his favor. Just the fact that they can joke around together means everything on this ship.

She flops down on the bed, wondering what it might be like to have him on top of her, moving inside her. She’s never been with an alien before, never really thought about it. But it doesn’t matter. He’s _Garrus._ He could be a hanar or a volus and she’d still want to share this with him, because it’s him.

And he might be interested. In her. Assuming she’s read his cues right.

Hopefully someday soon, he’ll give her the chance to let him know that she might be interested, too.


	4. Thesis Statement - Garrus

_Yeah, definitely?_

Garrus stares at his console, trying to process what had just happened. Shepard took the opening he gave her, she actually took it. And what does he do? Stammers like an idiot, acting like the idea hasn’t crossed his mind a thousand times already. Because it most certainly has, ever since the first time he brought up the idea of stress-relief to her. And that’s his best response? _Yeah, definitely?_

He runs his hand over his fringe, playing the conversation over again in his head. At least he told her how much he respects her. That’s something. Long gone are his days of rutting with anyone he could. Now? He wants a partner he can respect, both in and out of the bedroom.

His talons curl over his console as he tries to picture what Shepard looks like under her uniform. It’s not like he hasn’t seen naked humans before; he was a teenager with extranet access once, after all. But Shepard is different. Shepard is… well, Shepard. She’s not a scantily dressed woman in a vid. She’s the person he trusts more than anyone. And maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of her like that right now.

Funny how he was actually feeling almost relaxed for once, and then she drops this bombshell on him. Though, to be fair, he’s the one who started things. He’s the one that brought up the recon scout and stress relief the other day. How was he supposed to know she’d actually want to relieve some stress together?

Yeah, he’s not getting any work done right now.

Garrus goes to the back of the battery, where he’s got his cot set up. It’s sparse back here. More than sparse, really. He declined the Cerberus issued footlocker when he came aboard, just like he declined their offer of a stipend. The footlocker was probably bugged and there’s no way in hell he’s accepting money from Cerberus. All his belongings in life are in one small duffel bag. A couple of changes of clothes. Some weapon mods. And that’s it, really. Once he made the decision to go to Omega, he gave up his furnished apartment on the Citadel.

He had a pretty damn good life back on the Citadel, before Shepard barged her way in. His mandibles widen in a grin, thinking about the day they first met, when they were both furious about Saren and wanting justice. Garrus settles on his cot - the very first thing he bought on the Citadel with the last of Archangel’s funds; no human standard issue for him, thank you very much - and wonders what his life would be like if he hadn’t been handed the Saren case almost three years ago.

Probably dead, he decides. His usual patrol back then took him around Tayseri Ward, one of the wards hit hardest by Sovereign’s attack. Just another reason to be thankful for Shepard.

With a quick look over his shoulder - which is stupid; EDI is always there watching - Garrus takes out his burner datapad, the one that’s not connected to the _Normandy’s_ extranet. The pad also never leaves his person. Maybe his paranoia is ridiculous, but he’s fairly convinced if he ever left the datapad in the battery, Cerberus would manage to compromise it. And sometimes, a turian aboard a ship full of human supremacists just needs some damn privacy. If he’s got to be paranoid to protect himself, then he’ll be as paranoid as he needs to be.

There are simply some extranet searches that Cerberus doesn’t need to know about. And this is definitely one of them.

His talons hover over the keypad. Now that he’s committed to some research, he’s not exactly sure where to start. He could simply look up turian/human porn. He’s got to imagine there’s plenty out there; goodness knows there’s enough porn for every other possible combination of species out there. But somehow, that seems too easy. Garrus wants more than just an instruction manual; he’s fairly certain inserting A into B will work, but that’s not enough.

Not for Shepard.

Knowing how to make her orgasm isn’t enough. And damn, the thought of Shepard, having an orgasm, because of _him_ … Garrus adjusts himself a bit and spreads his legs, trying to ignore the pressure behind his groin plates. He wants to know _everything_. How he can make her feel good throughout the entire act, not just the climax.

Because as he very well knows, this just isn’t about sex. If it was, he could go into any bar on the Citadel and try to find someone to go home with. And he’s fairly certain Shepard could do the same. Be a hell of a lot less complicated for both of them to have a simple one-night stand on their own than to figure out things together, especially under Cerberus’s watchful eye.

This is about them. Their friendship and possibly being open to more than that. She’s the most important person in his life and he’ll be damned if he fucks that up because of sex. He needs to do this right.

Deliberately taking his time, Garrus types out _human woman sexuality_. He doesn’t click ‘search,’ not yet. If he goes down this road, if he actually starts this research, then he’s got to commit. She deserves nothing less. He’ll give her an out, though, in case she changes her mind. Which she might. He’s never heard of any turian/human couples and maybe there’s a reason why.

Over-thinking things, like usual. Not letting himself waver any longer, he clicks ‘search’ and tries not to panic when he sees 1.2 billion results.

He fails.

Garrus shoves the datapad under his pillow and stares at the ceiling. His eyes close as he starts whispering firing algorithms to himself. Always a good way to calm down, algorithms. After a couple of minutes, he’s ready to face the datapad again.

“This is for Shepard,” he says, his voice soft. The datapad automatically wiped the search once out of his hands - another security measure of his - so he has a clean slate. He can do this. Research is something he’s good at, always has been. He just needs to calibrate the search parameters. Easy enough.

With a deep breath, Garrus starts his calibrations.


	5. Narration - Shepard

“How’s the healing?”

The sound of Garrus’s voice makes Shepard go still. She doesn’t like being caught red-handed like this. As slowly as she can, she puts down the spoon and the jar of peanut butter onto the kitchen counter. There goes her late night snack. For now. “What was that?” she asks, keeping her voice quiet so not to disturb anyone, being the middle of the night in the galley.

She can hear a trill of amusement from his subvocals. Funny how she can understand most of them easily these days. “You heard me, Shepard,” Garrus says as he leans back against the wall. He’s wearing what’s she’s come to learn are his workout clothes. Loose fitting pants that cut off at the knee and what almost looks like a bolero. There’s a sheen to his hide, so she’s pretty sure he just worked out.

“Yeah, I did,” Shepard admits with a grin, kicking her feet out in front of her. She’s sitting on the counter of the galley, something she’s pretty sure Gardner wouldn’t be too happy with. But Gardner’s probably sound asleep in his bunk and Shepard’s restless, so she’ll sit on the counter if she wants. He also wouldn’t be too happy about her eating peanut butter straight from the jar. So she picks it back up and digs in.

“You gonna answer my question?” Garrus asks. The amusement’s still there, so Shepard feels free to take a lick of her spoonful of peanut butter. And she doesn’t think she imagines Garrus watching her every movement. Maybe he’s wondering what her tongue can do. Goodness knows she’s wondered about his.

“The healing is going fine, thank you very much,” Shepard says, taking some more peanut butter, not even caring that she’s double dipping. This is her jar forever now.

With her free hand, Shepard pats her cheek. There’s no trace of scarring, not since the procedure with that weird machine. She wasn’t sure it was worth the credits and the mats, just to heal some scars. But she’s starting to feel like herself again, not a copy, and that’s worth almost anything. That, and Chakwas promises to donate the machine to the Citadel once the mission is over. 

“Glad to hear it,” Garrus says. He walks up to the counter where Shepard is sitting. He doesn’t sit on the counter like her, but just leans against it. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Shepard rolls her eyes as she bumps Garrus’s shoulder with her own. “Could ask the same about you,” she says, though that’s not necessarily true. Turians have a different sort of sleep schedule. At the end of the day, they’ll sleep for a few hours, then have naps throughout the rest of the day. “I just wanted a snack.”

A silence settles over them. Not an uncomfortable one at all. But one she doesn’t feel the need to fill. Which is pretty nice.

“So can you answer a human anatomy question for me?”

Shepard stills. Yes, they’ve agreed that they’re going to sleep together at some point, but Garrus also mentioned doing some research. She assumed that meant the extranet. Not asking her. “Sure, of course,” she says far too quickly. “Anything you want.”

His mandibles do this thing where they contract and immediately release. “Well, there’s a lot I _want_ to learn, but nothing beats practical knowledge, right?”

_Is Garrus flirting?_

Heat rises to her cheeks at the thought. At the thought of Garrus actually flirting with her. She’s pretty sure he is, and what’s more, she’s pretty sure she likes it. “Tell you what,” Shepard says. “I’ll answer a question for you if you answer a turian anatomy question for me.”

What is she _doing_?

“You drive a hard bargain,” Garrus says, shaking his head. “But fair is fair. So here’s the deal. Hawthorne told me that cutting human hair is pretty painful. That true?”

Shepard practically drops her jar of peanut butter. _That’s_ his question? She expected something far more personal. “Ah, no,” she says after a beat. “Hawthorne was pulling your leg. Hair is basically dead cells. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Even when you cut it as close to the scalp like you do?”

Without thinking, Shepard puts her hand on the top of her head. She’s overdue for a shave, actually, but there’s always been something else to do. “Only if you’re bad with a razor.”

“Sort of crazy, how you can change your look by cutting dead cells,” Garrus says. “I know what human hair feels like. But your hair looks like it would feel different.”

“You remember what my hair used to look like,” she says. “This really isn’t all that different. I should have shaved my head years ago.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Garrus says, his mandibles opening up in a grin. “May I?”

“Who am I to deny you?” Shepard asks, hoping that she doesn’t sound too ridiculous right now. Especially considering she’s practically batting her eyelashes at him. And turians don’t even have eyelashes, so that would be completely lost on him. _Fuck_ , flirting is hard.

Garrus seems to hesitate for just a moment, then puts his gloveless hand on the top of her head. Shepard inhales, hopefully not too loudly, as he runs his palm from the top of her head down to the nape of her neck. She’s suddenly very, _very_ aware how long it’s been since she’s really been touched. And Miranda putting her back together while she was unconscious doesn’t count.

His talons linger at her neck for a moment and Shepard swears time stands still. Finally Garrus moves his hand away. “Guess you’re right,” he says. “Not that different after all.”

“Told you,” she says with a smile.

“Well, Shepard,” Garrus says, turning directly towards her. It’s simply not fair how his voice does things to her like it does. “Looks like it’s your turn to ask a question. Anything you want to know?”

“How do turians protect their eyes?” Shepard asks. The question leaves her lips before she can think of a better one. A question more suited for flirting. But instead of crawling into a cabinet and pretending she doesn’t exist, which is her initial response, she holds his gaze.

Garrus tilts his head. “Turian eyes?” he asks, and Shepard hears that subvocal again, the one she’s heard before and didn’t recognize. Based on how he’s looking at her and the sound of his voice? She thinks she understands that subvocal now. And she wants to hear it again.

“Humans have eyelashes to keep out dust and that sort of thing,” Shepard says, crossing her legs at the knee. She’s sure she looks absolutely ridiculous right now, but instead of retreating into her shell, she pushes forward. This is _Garrus._ She can be as ridiculous as she wants around him. So she slowly and carefully licks more peanut butter off of her spoon, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. “What do turians have?”

“Uh…” Garrus looks away and Shepard decides to count that as a victory. “We’ve got a protective film over our eyes. Clear, so you can’t really see it.”

“Clear protective film,” Shepard repeats before biting her lower lip. “Appreciate the answer.” She puts the lid back on the peanut butter jar and jumps off the counter. She’s had enough flirting for the night. “I better get some rest.”

“Good night, Shepard,” Garrus says quietly.

“Good night, Garrus,” Shepard says, just as softly. Then before she can change her mind, she reaches out and squeezes his hand, trying not to wonder about the look in his eye as she does. “I’ll see you in the morning.”


	6. Narration - Garrus

Garrus tells himself that nothing’s changed.

When they’re on the battlefield, Shepard is the commander, the one to call all the shots. She wants him to leap? He asks how far. Military precision has been drilled into him since he was a child. In theory, at least.

Reality is him looking over at Shepard and checking her vitals after he takes a shot. It’s changing targets to not necessarily the most strategically sound, but the one that got a shot in on Shepard. And it’s also taking a good long look at the curve of her waist in her armor.

The roundness of her hips, so different than turian ones, is most certainly growing on him.

_Fuck_.

It’s the pain in Shepard’s voice that makes him flinch. Not enough to ruin his shot, but enough so that it’s not perfectly lined up. Granted, no one cares about his head shots but him, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Garrus is about to say something, but Legion beats him to it. _Shepard Commander, do you need assistance?_

_I need us to take these guys out,_ Shepard says. The pain has disappeared from her voice for which Garrus is entirely grateful.

She’s just out of his view unless he switches to a different helmet cam, and considering they’re still in the middle of a fire fight, probably not the wisest course of action. So he works on following her orders, taking down the geth in front of them.

The fight is over less than five minutes later.

His first thought is to find Shepard, who has been far too quiet. Turning his head, he sees no sign of her. Then he looks past a barricade and sees her sitting down, leaning against it. Shepard doesn’t sit after a fight, so to see this? Garrus can admit he’s worried.

“Guard the entrance, Legion,” Garrus says, pointing to the door where a damn hunter caught them with their talons filed. Legion will give them plenty of warning if some geth try to sneak up on them. This also gives Garrus a chance to check on Shepard without Legion hovering over them.

_Affirmative._

The energy always changes when someone in the party is injured. Luckily, they haven’t had too many serious injuries. Tali’s had the worst of it with a broken wrist that developed into an infection. Jacob had a concussion at one point. A little voice in his head tries to remind Garrus that he had half his face shot off, but he tells the voice to mind its own damn business.

Not too long after all this began with Shepard, Garrus set up a private comm link for the two of them. Never been used yet, but this feels like the right time. No reason for Legion and the 1,183 geth programs inside his mobile platform need to hear this conversation.

“You okay?” he asks after he switches their comms. He tries to keep his walk casual, like he’s not all that worried. Pretty sure he fails miserably.

Both her hands are resting on either side of her helmet. This is one of the reason he _hates_ helmets, even though they save lives. Garrus wants to see her face. Wants to see her face and make sure she’s okay more than anything in the galaxy right now. _Damn_ , if he isn’t being a melodramatic idiot.

She’s fine, of course she’s fine. She’s freaking Commander Shepard.

But then she holds up a finger in the universal gesture of _gimme a minute_ and Garrus decides maybe she’s not fine. While he can’t wear his visor with his helmet, he overclocked his helmet ages ago, giving him access to all the same stats. Her pulse is up and she’s down a dose of medi-gel.

“Shepard,” Garrus says, ignoring the way his subvocals plead a bit. Chances are she won’t recognize those subvocals. He barely recognizes them himself.

_Just had the wind knocked out of me_ , she says and Garrus’s shoulders relax a bit. Not completely, but enough. _I’m fine._

Her vitals tell him otherwise but he’s not about to call her out. Positions reversed, and he’d be doing the same damn thing.

His helmet does have one advantage. He’s modded it to give himself 360 degree visibility if he wants it. A few keystrokes on his omni-tool tells him that Legion is guarding the entrance, their back towards them. Now, Garrus can’t be sure, but he doesn’t think Legion has 360 degree visibility, meaning he and Shepard are just about as close to being alone as they can be on a geth ship.

Shepard starts to put her hands on the ground, but Garrus holds out his hand. Maybe he’s being stupid. Well, if he is, he trusts her to let him know. She places her hand in his and he waits a couple of seconds before he helps to pull her off of the ground.

Her body relaxes and even though this is probably a stupid, _stupid_ idea, Garrus does it anyway. He puts his arm around her shoulders. But she doesn’t tense, she doesn’t move away. In fact, Shepard leans into him, a move completely unexpected.

“You clearly have a head injury,” Garrus says in a deadpan.

_Just needed a breather, big guy,_ Shepard says, still leaning against him. _And some booze when we get back to the ship._

“Well, consider me volunteered to be your drinking buddy tonight,” Garrus says. After all these geth, a drink or two might actually take the edge off things. He’s never liked geth and while he doesn’t trust Legion for an instant, he does trust Shepard. But just because he trusts her decisions, doesn’t mean he has to like them. “Those concussed should never drink alone.”

_Don’t know what I’d do without you,_ Shepard says and Garrus’s heart clenches. All he hears is truth in her words, as clear as subvocals. _Breather’s done. Let’s keep going._

Shepard takes off at a jog, heading towards Legion. Now that he knows she’s fine, Garrus’s own heart rate comes back down. He gives himself five seconds, his eyes lingering on her waist, before following. “Right behind you, Shepard.”


	7. Affirmation - Shepard

Being held by a turian is not as uncomfortable as Shepard thought it would be.

In fact, she sort of likes the solidness of Garrus’s torso, the contours of his chest. So very different from a human. Likes the different textures of hide and scales under the palm of her hand.

Likes Garrus, even more.

And there it is.

The thought is enough to make Shepard sit up, a shiver running through her as Garrus trails his talons down her back. Oh, she could get used to that.

“Suppose we should get ready, huh?” Garrus says, his voice soft.

Shepard brings her knees to her chest, wondering if she should take out the persona of _Commander Shepard_ , before deciding she doesn’t need to. Not with Garrus. Never with Garrus. “EDI, how much time until we hit the relay?”

_Twenty-five minutes._

Behind her, she can hear Garrus sitting up. Guess that answers that question. Shepard looks down towards the floor, searching for her underwear. The underwear she finds easily, but the bra? Lost cause for now. She settles with throwing on a t-shirt that had been on the floor.

And then she watches as Garrus starts to dress. The snaps and buckles seem far too complicated for clothes, but what does she know? He basically undressed himself earlier, just like she had.

Far too soon, Garrus starts to walk towards the steps leading out of her quarters. Shepard quickly joins him, knowing she can’t let their evening end without saying anything.

“If we live through this,” Shepard says, keeping her voice quiet to match the mood in the room, “I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.”

She meant to try to sound a little sultry, maybe even a little sexy, things she normally doesn’t associate with herself. But her tone comes out all wrong, sounding more like a plea than anything else. A plea for them both.

To _live._

Garrus nods, a slow thoughtful nod, and takes a step towards her so they are almost flush. If he were human, Shepard would kiss him now, something for the road, so to speak. But he isn’t human and they haven’t kissed once tonight.

She starts racking her brain, trying to figure out something physical to do, to show him how much tonight meant to her, but nothing comes to mind. But then Garrus lowers his brow and presses it up against hers, just like earlier, when he first came to her quarters.

Without thinking, Shepard leans into him, lowering her chin so that her brow presses more firmly against his. If this is the turian version of kissing, she doesn’t mind this at all. Different, yes. But not a bad difference in the slightest. 

As Garrus puts his ungloved hand on the back of her neck, a sense of calm washes over her. Balling the hem of his tunic into her fists, Shepard rests against him, and just enjoys being held. Twice in one night. Will wonders never cease?

Seconds pass and she knows their reverie needed to end. There’s a galaxy to save, after all. But she can’t make herself step away and ends up doubling down instead, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

She’s not sure how long they stand there, just breathing, just being together. Long enough that Shepard knows that tonight won’t be enough.

Perhaps that’s selfish of her. Perhaps one night is all Garrus wants. Perhaps if they actually live through the next twenty-four hours, she’ll be able to find out.

Though something tells her by the way his hand curls around her waist that maybe, just maybe, tonight won’t be enough for Garrus, either.

Finally, they break apart, hands lingering together as they do. Shepard’s breath catches in her throat. This was one of the most intimate moments she’s had in her life, a simple forehead press. Not so simple, though, when it came to Garrus.

“I better get going,” Garrus says, his voice quiet. “Need time to suit up.”

“Same,” Shepard says. Her kit’s ready, having done all necessary prep earlier. But she still wants a little time to herself before the fight. Just enough to reflect as she puts on her armor.

As they walk to the door, the only sound is the bubbling of her fish tank. Once they make it there, Garrus makes no move to leave and she makes no move to push him out.

Shepard wonders if she should thank him. Not for the sex; she will never feel the need to thank anyone for sex. But for telling that story about the recon scout in the first place. She has a sneaking suspicion that they would have gotten to this part eventually, but that story certainly helped speed things along.

She can see the reluctance in his face as he presses the console, opening the door in front of them. A reluctance she feels, too. Well, they’ll just have to live through this suicide mission, then.

“Shepard…” She waits for him to say more, but instead, Garrus trails one of his long talons down her cheek. “See you on the other side.”

The words don’t really matter, all that mattered is the voice in which he says them. A voice Shepard hasn’t heard before. Quiet. Reverent. The same emotions swirling around her at this very moment.

“Meet you in the briefing room,” she says softly. She wonders if they’ll be able to act the same in front of the rest of the crew, now that everything has changed.

With a nod, Garrus turns and walks into the hallway. Shepard knows she should go back into her room and start getting ready. They have less than fifteen minutes at this point. But she can’t stand losing this connection yet.

So she leans against the door frame as Garrus walks into the elevator. Once he turns towards the front, Shepard can see the surprise on his face that she’s still there, watching. Just like her surprise as his face softens when he waves as the elevator doors closed, shutting him from view.

She listens until she can’t hear the whirr of the elevator any longer. Then Shepard takes a deep breath and walks back into her quarters. More than ever, she needs to concentrate.

She has a suicide mission to live through.


	8. Affirmation - Garrus

“What the hell are you doing here, Vakarian? Thought you were getting goddamn laid.”

_Crap._

Clearly going to the weapons room for one last rifle check was a mistake. Garrus assumed it’d be empty so he might have a chance to try to gather his thoughts before the briefing in five minutes. Guess he was wrong.

“Since when do you trust Cerberus supplies to clean your weapons?” Garrus asks, hoping the change of subject will distract Zaeed. _Disturbing the crew._ That’s exactly what he wanted to avoid and of course that’s exactly what he got. Granted, there’s not a lot of crew on the ship at the moment. Well, any crew, actually. Joker doesn’t count as far as Garrus is concerned.

“Ran out of scrub pads and Shepard isn’t willing to stop by Omega before going through the bloody relay. Goody two-shoes,” Zaeed says with a shake of his head. “How am I supposed to help rescue the crew without the right equipment?”

“Guess you’ll have to rely on your natural talent,” Garrus says as he unsnaps his rifle from the back of his armor.

Zaeed rolls his eyes and goes back to his weapon. For a glorious moment, Garrus thinks he’s gotten away with things. That Zaeed’s actually going to let the subject drop. Maybe he’s not as a big as a distraction as he feared.

“Not one to kiss and tell, huh? I respect that.”

Or maybe he is.

Garrus freezes, one hand on his thigh, one hand on his sniper rifle. How does he want to play this? Deny everything? Try to play it cool? Yeah, no one will ever believe that. Instead, he focuses on his rifle, the rifle that he’s going to use to keep Shepard alive.

“What did you hear?” Garrus finally asks. He might as well know what the rumor mill is saying about him and Shepard. He’s heard bits and pieces, thanks to Tali.

“Someone said they saw you walking through the galley with a bottle of goddamn champagne,” Zaeed says, reaching for another scrub pad. “Little early for a victory drink, you want my opinion.”

_Kasumi._ Had to be. The galley was empty when he walked through it.

“Wasn’t champagne,” Garrus says, hoping he’s making the right decision, all but confirming things for Zaeed.

Zaeed lets out of bark of a laugh as he continues to clean his rifle. “You crazy son of a bitch,” he says. “Half the crew’s just trying to get her bloody attention and you’re already warming her fucking bed. Bet Cerberus loves that.”

Garrus shrugs. He doesn’t really care what Cerberus thinks about him. Never has, never will.

“I had thoughts about it myself,” Zaeed says. “But after how she fucked me over with Vido? Surprised you’re willing to go there after she screwed you on the Citadel. Took away your kill.”

The only response Garrus can think of is to shrug again, so he does. Inside, though, he’s reeling, having never put the two together before. Before Shepard blocked his shot of Sidonis, and Garrus decided to let things go, was Zaeed his future? Would he have been obsessing over finding Sidonis or anyone else who had wronged him twenty years later? That’s absolutely not the life he wants but it could have so easily been the path he walked.

The doors to the weapons room open and Shepard walks in, holding her Carnifex. Of course she walks in now, when his head is spinning.

“Think I’ll leave you two kids alone,” Zaeed says, snapping his assault rifle onto his back. “If this is gonna be the last hour of my life, I don’t want to be playing a third fucking wheel.”

Shepard just stands there as Zaeed lazily walks out of the weapons room. And Garrus can’t take his eyes off her. Since they’ve met, he’s seen her in armor more often than not. In public, it helps to shape her into the Commander Shepard persona he knows so well. Without that persona, he might not have followed her onto the _Normandy_ more than two years ago. But now he’s seen her without the armor, literally and figuratively, letting him see through that persona completely.

And now he knows just how much she means to him. They need to live, just so he can tell her that. To thank her for keeping him on the up and up, to keep him from becoming someone he didn’t want to be.

“How do people already know?” Shepard asks, shaking her head with a small laugh.

He’s got too many thoughts in his head to answer seriously, so a joke will have to do. “Not often a well-dressed turian walks through the galley of a Cerberus ship, Shepard. Someone must have seen me and put two and two together.”

She sits down right next time, close enough that their shoulders touch. Having Shepard this close again is making his heart rate race, thinking of being that close in her quarters. The sex itself wasn’t great - just about the worst he’s had actually, and he can’t imagine it was all that good for her, either - but what mattered was afterward. Just holding Shepard and seeing the look of peace on her face was better than any sex they could have had.

“Guess everyone knows how lucky I am,” Shepard says. “I can think of worse things.”

Her words are almost too much; he’s ready to put himself down, because Shepard can’t actually be talking about _him_. Instead, he takes a breath and reminds himself that if Shepard just said those words, that’s she lucky? She means them. She wouldn’t lie to him. Not to him. Not about this.

One of the reasons he respects her more than anyone else in the galaxy.

The words are at the tip of his tongue. All he needs to say is _or they know how lucky_ I _am_ but instead he puts his free hand over hers. It’s a different sort of touch, with them both wearing armored gloves, but still means just as much.

Shepard looks up at him and either Garrus is completely reading her look wrong - a distinct possibility - or she understands exactly what he’s trying to say. Once she squeezes his hand, just the tiniest bit of pressure through his gloves, he knows she understands.

“Time to give a rousing speech, I guess,” Shepard says, not moving.

“Give ‘em hell, Shepard,” Garrus says. He’s not entirely sure what the phrase means, to be honest. But it’s one he heard human C-Sec officers use back in the day. Always thought it kinda catchy.

She smiles, just enough that he’s fairly certain he didn’t say the wrong thing. And then her eyes meet his. “We will.”


	9. Negation - Shepard

It’s lonely, fighting only with a combat drone for company.

Shepard looks over her right shoulder, to the spot where Garrus should be, holding his sniper rifle and making some smart-ass comment. Instead, there’s nothing. Only the reminder that she left the _Normandy_ alone, without any backup. She glances down at the N7 stripe on her armor, and wonders again exactly what Hackett was thinking. Never once in all of her N7 training and missions did she _ever_ work solo. She’s an engineer. She’s the one other N7s are supposed to keep safe so she can hack something or detonate something.

Hackett knows her record, probably better than she does at this point.

So why the hell is she on Aratoht by herself?

Two batarian guards stand in front of her, obviously on high alert. While she might not be an Infiltrator, Shepard did train as one in the beginning, until her marksmanship score made the brass reconsider her role. Sneaking in and out of places wasn’t her issue. Hitting her targets was. Engineering was her passion anyway, so when the Alliance switched her designation, she made absolutely no complaints.

Now, however, she can think of a few.

Why didn’t she bring a tactical cloak? Cerberus had to have something lying around or maybe Kasumi would have let her borrow hers. Instead she’s trying to be as quiet as she can, wishing Garrus was with her, even when she told him earlier he couldn’t come.

He wanted to, of course. The moment she told him about the mission, he offered to join her. Her saying no led to their first actual fight. Shepard’s not about the risk the relationship between the turians and batarians by having a turian with her if things went sideways. But did he understand that? Of course not.

She tried to plead her case, even promising him that she’ll be back in less than eighteen hours and they’ll be able to share a bed again tonight. Which is something that’s close to becoming a habit. Which is something she likes far more than she’s willing to admit right now.

Technically, they’re still fighting, she thinks. Shepard’s never been good with personal conflict and when Garrus refused to see things her way, she just left her quarters. Not very mature, she knows, but the mission had to start and them arguing wasn’t getting them anywhere.

_Shit._

Thinking about Garrus this much isn’t getting her anywhere either. She’s got two jumpy guards six feet away and she needs to concentrate on somehow getting this assignment done. Her omni-tool appears with a quick flick of her wrist; it’s modded not to make a single sound. As soon as her hand curls into a fist and twists to the right, her combat drone appears. Punching forward, Piper rushes the closest batarian, leaving Shepard free to Overload the other’s shields.

The fight takes longer than she likes and all she can think of is how much faster things would be if Garrus was here.

#

At least things start to feel somewhat normal once Shepard frees Anna Kenson. Definitely not the same as having Garrus on her six, but the good doctor is better than nothing. As Kenson runs ahead and Shepard lets out an Incinerate, it almost reminds her of an N7 mission, where she would be dropped off on some strange planet, meet her contact - usually a complete stranger - and finish the mission.

Maybe she’ll be able to get back in time for bed, after all.

#

_Well, fuck._

So she was wrong. Very wrong. Turns out fighting with the doctor is much worse than nothing.

Shepard doesn’t want to be fighting in this room. Doesn’t want to be fighting in a room full of Reaper artifacts. She’s already been exposed so many times. How much longer before she’s indoctrinated herself?

That sort of thinking will drive her to madness. If she manages to survive this ambush, then she can worry about things. Not like she’ll even know if she’s indoctrinated, right? Most she can hope for is that someone realizes - Garrus, probably, he knows her better than _anyone_ \- and that he’s able to put a bullet through her brain before she does anything stupid.

_Garrus…_

Her shields flinch as she takes another hit. In the distance, her combat drones blinks out of existence and Shepard doesn’t waste any time sending Piper out again. The distraction is desperately needed. Because she’s not sure she’s getting out of this one alive.

The irony is bitter. Survive one suicide mission, find a quiet sort of happiness, only to die on a mission that both the Alliance and Cerberus will completely disavow. Worse, to die _alone._ Again.

Shepard’s already done the dying alone thing, and it didn’t take. Now that she survived the suicide mission, she thinks she’ll give old age a try. This fight is really putting a damper on her plans.

Kenson is yelling something over the intercom just as Shepard sees one of the guards throw another damn grenade in her direction. Shepard does her best to roll out of cover, to get away from the flash grenade, but she’s not fast enough, not with the hits her shields are taking.

“Damnit!” Shepard yells as the world around her blurs. Her pistol falls to the floor as she blinks as rapidly as she can, willing her eyesight to come back.

While she might not be able to see, Shepard can mostly certainly hear, and at least two guards are rushing her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she lets out an Incinerate followed by a Cryo Blast.

It’s not enough, of course, it’s not enough.

She’s hit with something, who the fuck knows what, and just like that, her shields are gone. She’s blinded and shieldless and in a room full of people who want her dead. Another hit. Maybe a concussion shot? Whatever it is sends a rush of nausea through her, enough to force her on all fours as she starts to dry heave.

This is it. Shepard is about to die. Not quite as painful as she remembers.

Hopefully Garrus forgives her for making him sleep alone tonight.


	10. Negation - Garrus

The sight is mesmerizing.

Garrus can’t tear his eyes away from the view out the window. An asteroid, a fucking asteroid is heading towards the Alpha Relay. Behind him, Miranda is pacing, while Joker is setting up calculations on his console like a madman.

He should have fucking known that _things going right_ had a shelf life. A shelf life of approximately two weeks. Two beautiful weeks where he stayed overnight in Shepard’s cabin more often than not, watching her fall asleep, then waking up together. Then she left on a mission and didn’t want him at her six.

“We need to leave. If that asteroid stays on course, we’ll be destroyed along with the entire system,” Miranda says.

“Shepard is still out there,” Garrus snaps just as Joker says, “We’re not leaving without Shepard.”

“If the choice is all of us dying or leaving Shepard behind, I know which one she’d choose.”

The confidence in Miranda’s voice is infuriating, even though Garrus knows that she’s right. There’s no doubt in his mind that she would absolutely want the crew to live, especially after living through the suicide mission. But the thought of Shepard not being there with him as he went on living didn’t feel like all that much of a life.

“Don’t we have a fancy canon on this bird?” Joker asks. “Can’t you destroy it or move it off course?”

The same thought already passed Garrus’s mind. “I don’t think the Thanix has that kind of fire-power. Not to move it far enough off course.”

_Shepard to_ Normandy. _Joker, do you read me?_

Garrus’s hands clenched into fists as Joker doesn’t waste any time. Thanks to the mass effect fields, Garrus doesn’t feel like they’re moving at all, but they’re in fact banking a hard left. He’s never really been much of a pilot; auto-pilot is as much as he can manage, but somewhere on that console are Shepard’s coordinates. Little bits of data that might save her life.

“Shit, this is gonna be close,” Joker says. “Shepard’s on the fucking asteroid. Of course she is.”

“Can we pick up Shepard and get out of here before the relay is destroyed?” Miranda asks, the very same question on Garrus’s mind.

“If Shepard can run fast enough,” Joker says.

One of Joker’s consoles change to an outside view, showing the asteroid surface. And there’s Shepard, running like her life depends on it, which is does. It always does. “She’ll make it,” Garrus says, far more confidently than he feels.

He walks over to the hatch, the easiest and fastest place to pick Shepard up. Even though he knows there’s a mass effect field covering the hatch, keeping the vacuum of space far, far away, Garrus holds onto the wall and waits.

Ten seconds later, she’s jumping onto the ship. As she runs past him to the cockpit, there’s a quick pressure around his hand, so slight that Garrus wonders if he imagined it.

Everyone stationed in the CIC seems to be frozen in place, all of their eyes on the viewscreen of the cockpit. Garrus turns and lets out his breath as he sees them closing in quickly on the relay. Looks like they might not die, after all. Plus they got Shepard out in one piece. That’s got to be a victory, right?

Until Shepard walks out of the cockpit with her head hanging low. This is not the Commander Shepard that the crew needs to see. How did one extraction mission go so damn sideways? “Let’s get out of here,” Garrus says in a low voice as she passes.

She nods and follows him without a word.

He’s not going to waste time waiting for the elevator so members of the crew can stare at Shepard. The weapons room will have to do. Garrus walks with purpose, trying a bit of a swagger, anything to keep the crew’s eyes on him instead of her.

But then they pass the galaxy map.

“Wait,” Shepard says, and Garrus can tell she’s just about at her breaking point. “I need to witness this.”

There’s an unspoken _alone_ in her words. “I’ll be waiting in the weapons room,” Garrus says, hoping this is one of of those times Jacob is in the gym instead of his post.

And luckily, it is. Garrus leans against the counter and waits. He’s not sure what’s happened. All he knows is that Shepard’s been gone for more than forty-eight hours and a mass relay has just been destroyed if the asteroid kept its course. Speculation is absolutely pointless. She’ll tell him when she’s ready.

Not long after that, the doors open and Shepard strides in, almost frantic, trying to take off her helmet. The moment the seals are released, and the door safely closed behind her, she takes her helmet and throws it across the room. It smacks the transparent aluminum overlooking engineering with a heavy thud.

“That help?” Garrus says, just to try to break the tension. An hour ago, he was absolutely furious with her and now he desperately wants to hold her and tell her everything is going to be alright, even though they both know that’s a fucking lie.

Her eyes don’t leave the floor. Hands on her hips, Shepard ask, “Does it ever?”

Garrus doesn’t bother to respond. They both know the answer to that question.

He decides to issue an invitation. “Come here,” he says softly, concern radiating through his subvocals.

He half expects Shepard to shrug him off, to wave her hand and say _she’s fine_. If she does, Garrus won’t push. He’ll just quietly be there for her however he can.

But she doesn’t shrug him off. Instead, Shepard walks right over and leans against him, her hands clutching his shoulders. Considering they’re both in armor, it’s not all that comfortable, but Garrus can’t make himself move. All he can is hold her, one hand on her back, the other cradling her neck.

“I’m sorry,” Shepard whispers and somehow Garrus doesn’t think the words are for him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Garrus says, because he simply can’t think of anything else to say. So he’ll just hold her and hope that will be enough. “I know, Shepard.”


	11. Conclusion - Shepard

As Shepard falls onto her back, she wonders if this is the last time she’ll ever have sex in her life.

“ _Fuck_ , Shepard,” Garrus says, his palm sliding across her belly. “I think we’re starting to get pretty good at this.”

She can’t help but smile, because he’s right. They’ve certainly practiced enough in the month they’ve had together since the suicide mission. She’s sure Garrus is looking for some sort of confirmation from her, but words aren’t what she wants right now. Instead, she scratches his neck with her fingernails, a move that always makes him happy.

Garrus seems content licking up a bit of sweat from her neck, giving Shepard a moment to try to gather her thoughts. “Can we talk for a second?”

“You know, Joker warned me this was a thing with humans, wanting to talk after sex,” Garrus says as he moves to his side, adjusting his pillow.

“What, you telling me that turians don’t talk after sex?” Shepard asks. Not really something that’s come across in her own research of turian-human relationships.

His hand lingers on the curve of her hip, a move that’s becoming more and more of a favorite of hers with each passing day. “Turians tend to have sex in the morning. It’s not a night thing like for humans. So after sex, we go about our day.”

She tilts her head contemplating and the realizes Garrus almost got her to change the subject. He’s good like that. “So tomorrow…” Shepard starts and Garrus immediately closes his eyes, like he can ward off her words if he can’t see her. “Garrus, please.”

Maybe it’s the please that gets him to look at her. Whatever it is, there’s something in his face that _hurts._ Hurts to know that after tomorrow, she may never see him again. “We’ve been over the timetable, Shepard,” Garrus says. “There’s not much more to talk about.”

“I don’t want to talk about the damn schedule,” Shepard says. A carefully crafted schedule, one to make sure everyone is off the ship except for her and Joker when the Alliance stops by to pick up the keys. Illium is the perfect place to turn herself in. All the other crew will be able to make themselves disappear easily. Including Garrus. “I want to talk about us.”

That truly catches his attention, his mandibles tight against his face. “What about us?” he asks in a voice she doesn’t recognize.

Shepard takes a deep breath and tries to figure out exactly what it is she wants to say. No words want to come so she might as well wing it. She’s good at that. “I know we’ve never really defined what we have…”

His arms slides under her waist, bringing her in closer to him. She’s naked, and being flush against Garrus like this can be uncomfortable sometimes, chaffing and all that. But nothing in the galaxy can make her move right now, not as he lowers his brow so it’s against hers. “We don’t need a definition.”

She likes that idea. She likes that a lot. Because this certainly isn’t the time to define things. “Look, I don’t know how long I’m going to be in Alliance prison, but I don’t want to keep you from finding someone.”

Garrus tilts back his head and she hears his subvocals, sounding a bit displeased. “If the Reapers are going to be here soon, it’s not like I’m gonna have time, Shepard,” he says dryly.

“I know,” Shepard says, forcing herself to smile, just a little bit. “But if you find someone, I don’t want to be the one to hold you back.”

She can picture things so clearly. A turian woman, maybe the same age as him. Dedicated to defeating the Reapers and helping the galaxy find it’s way again. He’ll make her laugh, just like he makes Shepard laugh. They’ll find happiness together, even if it’s a different sort of happiness that Shepard found with him. And Shepard hates this hypothetical turian woman so much it practically hurts, but she can’t begrudge her, either. Because this hypothetical turian woman will be the one to care for Garrus throughout the years.

Years that Shepard won’t be able to, because she’ll be stuck in a prison cell.

“I’m not going to be looking, Shepard,” Garrus says, his voice soft.

His blunt talons are tracing nonsense patterns on her ass, making it slightly harder for her to concentrate. Shepard slides her fingers under the back of his mandibles, a private display of affection he taught her. This needs to be said, no matter how much she wishes it wasn’t. “You don’t have to look,” she says after a moment. “Just don’t look away if it finds you. Can you promise me that, at least?”

The tracing stops as he pulls her in closer. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” he asks as she shakes his head. Garrus takes a breath and Shepard waits. “Fine. Consider it promised.”

“Thank you,” Shepard says with a small sigh. Of relief or regret, she’s not sure. As long as Garrus doesn’t feel like he needs to stay committed to someone he may never see again, she’ll be content. “And if it means anything, I don’t plan on looking for anything like I’m locked up, either.”

That earns her the chuckle she hoped for, something to lighten the mood a bit. “Dunno, Shepard. I’ve seen your Alliance soldier types. Maybe you’ll get a guard who’s more muscles than sense and you’ll completely forget about me.”

Now it’s her turn to laugh. “You’re pretty unforgettable, Vakarian,” she says, her words an admission of what’s in her heart but cloak the true meaning.

Because she can admit this to herself now. She cares for him. More than she has any right to when they’ll be separated for who knows how long tomorrow. It would be the height of selfishness to tell him that, so she keeps the words locked up.

Garrus runs a talon down her cheek. “Can say the same for you.”

His words are soft and there’s something in his subvocals that are too much, they’re too _much_. So Shepard does the only thing she can think of. She presses her lips against his mouth plates. Garrus responds right away, holding her tight, as his tongue glides between her lips.

As he pushes Shepard onto her back, she lets out a laugh. Guess she’ll be having sex at least one more time in her life.


	12. Conclusion - Garrus

More and more, Garrus thinks Shepard would have made a damn good turian. Better than him, anyway.

All Garrus can do is watch as Shepard says goodbye to the remaining crew of the _Normandy._ Most left last night when they docked, but some, like Gardner, stayed until the bitter end. She shakes everyone’s hands and thanks them for serving. Each crew member walks away a little taller, a little straighter, knowing that Commander Shepard thanked _them._

Her shoulders slump just slightly when Patel is out of sight. That just leaves Joker, who’s turning himself in along with Shepard. Both are being good turians, the type to be praised for confessing their crimes and taking responsibility.

“You ready?” Shepard asks. “Cutting this close. Alliance will be here soon.”

The answer is absolutely not, but Garrus is most certainly not going to add to Shepard’s stress by saying that. “Gonna stay here for a couple days, take in the sights.” She smiles, just like he hoped she would. “Then head to the Citadel to see what sort of support I can drum up.”

“Hopefully people will listen,” Shepard says, even though they both know people won’t. In the grand scheme of things, who is he? He’s a former C-Sec detective who worked for a terrorist organization for six months after being AWOL for two years. Not like he has a lot of credibility.

That’s not what she needs to hear now, though. Not when she’s about to be cooped up in prison for who knows how long. “They’ll listen. I know they will.”

Shepard’s omni-tool beeps and her face falls. Garrus takes a breath. Three guesses what that’s for. “The Alliance just docked. Garrus, you’ve got to leave.”

His chest is tight as he realizes just how much he doesn’t want to leave Shepard’s side. He promised to walk into hell by her side, not cut and run when things are rough. But this is more than rough. And she will never forgive him if he gets himself arrested with her.

“If they let you write…” Garrus says, taking Shepard’s hands. Joker’s probably watching them right now, but Garrus could give a damn.

“You’ll be the first one I message,” Shepard says, her voice full of promise.

Garrus stands completely still as Shepard stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips next to his mouth plates. Doesn’t even try to breathe as her hand gently lowers his neck so that their brows touch. He never wants this moment to end and it needs to. _Now._

“I’ll be thinking about you,” Garrus whispers, hopefully quietly enough so Joker can’t hear.

“Same,” she says, just as softly back. “You need to go.”

She’s right and there’s no point to procrastinating any longer. Garrus takes a step back and squeezes her hands, one last time. With a mock salute to Joker, Garrus does one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do in his life.

He turns his back on Shepard.

A nearby hostel room is currently his reserved under a fake name and if he has any sense, he’ll head there right now, take off his backpack holding all his worldly possessions, and sleep for the next week. But Garrus and sense never really were all that good of friends, so he heads to Eternity, and sits right out of eye shot of Matriarch Aethyta.

“Turian brandy. House is fine,” Garrus says, knowing full well that’s all he can afford right now. The beverage is in front of him in seconds.

And he waits.

Shepard’s arrest takes longer to hit the news cycle than he expects. He figured someone in the Alliance would spill the ammo within an hour tops. But it’s three hours before the news shows up in his feed.

Once it does? Seems like every pundit in the galaxy has an opinion about Commander Shepard. There’s an old turian saying _don’t read the comments_ but he does it anyway, reading every article he can find about her arrest. The batarians want her dead, no surprise there. Humanity seems to be mixed, some saying this is no way to repay a hero and others thinking she should be locked up for the rest of her life. Turians? She confessed. That is enough for them.

Garrus stays at the bar for almost six hours, nursing the same damn turian brandy as he scours the extranet. Matriarch Aethyta never asks him to move in all that time. His back cracks as he finally stands up, ready to find that hostel room. As he starts to hand her a credit chit, she says, “On the house. Looks like you needed it.”

“You have no idea,” Garrus says, throwing her the chit anyway. “Appreciate it.”

Rolling his shoulders, he takes one last look at the news feed on the monitor. An elcor and a krogan are discussing Shepard. Everyone’s got an opinion these days.

As he starts to walk towards his hostel, Garrus walks by one of the passenger docks. There he sees half a dozen young turians, looking like they’re barely old enough for basic. Just regular people, trying to live their lives. They have no idea what will be unleashed on the galaxy within the next year. He does.

And that’s when a new plan, a different plan, starts to form.

Maybe that’s what he needs to do. Go back to Palaven instead. Go to his father, confess his sins. Yes, he left C-Sec without any warning. Yes, he willingly served on a Cerberus ship. No, he absolutely has no regrets. Garrus will leave out the part about being with Shepard - that is for him and him alone - but he can tell people everything else. He can tell his people the truth.

That the Reapers are coming whether they want to accept that or not.

Maybe, just maybe, they’ll listen. Because they’ll see what Garrus went through to find that truth. Walked into hell with Shepard by his side and he walked out alone.

He takes a look at the travel timetable and makes a decision. Hopefully Palaven will welcome him home. Hopefully his father will, too.

As Garrus settles into his seat - basic economy, he can’t afford anything else - he thinks that he’s making a decision like a turian. But this isn’t about being turian, this is about Shepard. This is what _she_ would do, get the word out, protect as many people as possible. How can he do anything less?

Once he’s sitting down, the last six months crash over him. Omega. Cerberus. _Shepard_.

He lingers over their conversation from last night. Her not wanting him to wait for her. Telling her he’ll keep himself open to possibilities might have been one of the first times he’s ever purposely lied to her. Because right now? He can’t imagine anyone in his life but Shepard.

While she’s convinced she’ll be locked up for years while the bureaucrats make decisions, Garrus has a sneaking suspicion she’ll be out sooner than she thinks. And when she is? He’ll be waiting. He’ll always be waiting.

Garrus pulls up his omni-tool and goes to a search page. Waiting does have one advantage. It’ll give him some time to do some more research. There’s plenty of topics he can think of on the top of his head. But for not? He’ll concentrate on wine. There’s got to be better levo/dextro wine out there. He just needs to find it.

Because next time he sees Shepard? He’ll be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I've had this fic in my head for _years_ so I'm very excited that it's finally complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!


End file.
